Into Heaven We Gazed
by Lysha
Summary: RenxHoro AU. When Ren is found in spiritual and emotional turmoil it is only the beginning of a dark struggle for those around him. What has left him in this broken state? And is there any chance for redemption? Some adult themes. ON HIATUS.
1. I

**Author's Note:** Finally, a new RenxHoro fanfic! It's been a while, and I've missed the genre so very much! I think since I last wrote, my writing style has changed a lot (and hopefully, matured). For a change, I don't really have much to say at the moment, except for extending my huge thanks to all the people who have helped me plan/proof/beta read this fic. I couldn't have done it without you!

**Important: **This fic is entirely alternate universe, so expect a few surprises! It also contains shounen-ai, and some adult themes.

* * *

He could walk for miles. On and on, feet pounding furiously at the pavement beneath him. In this drunken stupor, he could walk forever.

Usui Horokeu (Horohoro to his friends) was nineteen years old, and carried the world on his young shoulders. Despite his age, he was weary of his existence. He had no desire to die – he had grown tired of that idea a long time ago. Now all he had left was a desire to escape. That was why, more often than not, he was to be found drowning his sorrows in a bar somewhere in the bustling city, and then walking to its outskirts to stumble through its forgotten streets.

And that was the very place he was to be found at this moment, walking at a fury-fired pace through an old industrial estate, a ruin of the modern world. The sun had set long ago, and was giving over to the chill of the twilight glow, making the buildings around him seem like huge skeletons looming over the dirt track on which he walked. Some of the buildings had windows punched out, making the gaping spaces where they once were akin to deep-set eyes, focusing upon this lone figure that travelled – a little unsteadily – in their midst. Occasionally, the exhausted remains of a truck appeared on the horizon, large and somewhat terrifying. Like a creature from a nightmare, bruised and rotting slowly, it materialised on the edge of his wavering vision. These inanimate entities were the only things around. Not once during one of these walks had Horo encountered another human here. Even the rats stayed out of this place, with no obvious food source to draw them there. And so the wind was left to rattle ominously through the hollow shells of the factories and office buildings that once stood here, now looking even more repugnant than when they were first built.

What Horo really wanted was nature. He wanted to be surrounded by giant oak trees and lush green grass, with the smoky smell of autumn enveloping him like a comforting blanket. He took a deep breath, eyes closed, half expecting to be able to catch that scent on the wind. Instead, all he got was a mouthful of stale, pollution-ridden air that made him choke and splutter. No matter how far he walked, he would never reach the countryside. At least, that was how he felt. He lived so far into the city, almost every spindly little tree around him had been planted by humans. There was nothing natural, nothing _fresh_...

He looked up to the sky just in time to see a flock of birds pass over him. It almost brought a smile to his face. He watched them spin and somersault around each other as they flew right over the path he was travelling, wings stretched out proudly. They disappeared into the half-light, and his smile faded. He passed another stark, skeletal building.

Horo never drank himself to the point where he couldn't control his own actions; what he sought was the ability to lose his sense of awareness, to lose himself in the desolate places that he wandered to. As he looked around himself, he realised that he had achieved just that; he had lost reason and with it, the ability to choose_._ Though all of the buildings here looked so similar in their monstrosity, there was a certain sense of dead silence here that he knew he had never come across before. He halted dead in his tracks for a moment, and drank in the feeling. The building he stood before was not remarkable in any way, sitting in the same desolate state as all the others nearby. But there was something about where he stood, a feeling that felt as though it would be lost should he take another step in either direction. It was a feeling of emptiness, nothing more. A feeling of... nothing. Horo squeezed his fingers tightly into his palms and closed his eyes. Yes, _this_ was the feeling he craved. Nothing to think, nothing to feel...

As Horo stood, facing this building, breathing in deeply as though he were trying to inhale the whole experience, he slowly became aware of something else, something more acute. A voice...

It was gentle and unwavering. It was _singing_. Horo's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he opened his eyes and glanced around himself. There was certainly nobody around him, probably not for at least a mile, in any direction. And yet... there was _definitely_ someone singing. As Horo listened, he became all the more sure of the fact. Focusing on the calming melody, it became apparent that what he could hear was someone singing a church hymn.

For a brief moment, he was transported to the rural parish of his childhood, where he had heard so many hymns like this before, where his parents had sang praises routinely every Sunday, where his four-year old heart had barely been able to comprehend the 'glory of God'...

Almost subconsciously, he took two steps forward. The singing seemed to get louder. The voice seemed, oddly enough, to be coming from the building right in front of him. The prospect of this drew Horo even closer, the door of the wretched old building firmly in his sights. The voice reverberated in his ear drums, pitch-perfect and almost soothing. A great desire to find the source of that wonderful sound gripped him. He reached out to take the handle of the door in his grasp. The door was as normal as it could be, which somehow made it all the more strange. It looked considerably fresher than the rest of the rickety old structure. Horo pulled down on the handle, and suddenly, the words of the hymn became clear.

"_While I draw this fleeting breath, when my eyelids close in death..."_

The voice continued on, unfaltering, as Horo stepped into a vast room he didn't think the building capable of holding. The missing windows let the dim dusk light stream into the otherwise pitch-dark room, making flecks of dust dance like fireflies in their wake. As Horo looked around, he thought it to be more of a hall than a room, considering its size. Around the edges of this space were relics from when the building was once used for industry; old crates and dusty boxes gathered in tall piles dominated the walls and blocked the view of the lower windows. He came to realise that the windows letting in light were in fact second-storey ones – the floor seemed to have crumbled away, leaving anyone on the ground floor with a direct view of the neglected old roof. At last, his eyes settled in the centre of the room. Somehow, what he saw, he almost expected. An assembly of mismatched church pews, styles and designs abundant, were gathered together, laid out in neat lines. All of them faced an altar, consisting of a statue raised on a structure of low-lying crates. The statue was hard to distinguish for Horo, due to the distance at which he stood combined with his already slightly blurred vision. The only way to see it was to get closer.

"_When I soar through tracts unknown, see thee on thy judgement throne..."_

As Horo took a step, he was reminded of that haunting voice. The melody of the song was almost saddening, yet also endearing. Horo felt his heart beat firmly against his chest, as though it were demanding to understand what the sound was. The song crashed over him like a wave, and urged him closer to the peculiar set-up in the middle of the room. It was then that Horo cast his eyes upon a slender male figure, crouched at the altar's base.

"_Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee."_

Horo let the last note of the song ring out and echo around him in all its perfection, before stopping just before the first of the pews and calling out gently, "Hello?"

The head of the person at the altar shot around, panicked. Horo was met with the shock of piercing golden eyes and an expression of sheer panic.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Horo asked, simply. He struggled slightly to get out his words – his lips didn't seem to be obeying his brain.

"Who are you?" The person shot to his feet. No sooner had he done this than he was back on the floor again, falling to his hands and knees with a cry of pain.

This time, it was Horo who was filled with panic. He dashed forwards, tripping over his own feet in a clumsy stupor to reach the young man's side. The stranger's hair was violet and unkempt in a matted mess. He wore nothing more than a cotton shift that barely kept him covered. He was now kneeling on the floor, doubled-over and clutching desperately at his sides, tears brimming in his golden eyes. Horo fell to his knees beside him with worry.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?"

The stranger spluttered with tears. "It hurts..."

"What does?" Horo reached out to place his hands on the young man's shoulders, desperate to get a better look at him. "Hey, let me see you, I-"

"No!" The stranger screamed and flailed his arms out wildly, batting Horo's hands away. "Don't touch me! Please, don't..." He collapsed back into position, tears rolling down his sunken cheeks.

Horo shot back, alarmed by the sudden reaction. He held his hands up in the air to show his obedience. "Okay, okay! I won't touch you." His mind was at once occupied, he was overwhelmed. He felt as though it were about to flood over with this sudden intake of information. He cast his eyes over the stranger as his mind reeled over what to do. The young man was frail – alarmingly so. His wrists looked as though they could snap at the slightest movement, and his skin, so pale - an unhealthy shade of stark white. Like paper, it was taught and thin. Dark circles around his eyes showed fatigue, and his whole body had an exhausted look about it, as though it couldn't last much longer. As Horo looked closer, he noticed countless small scratches and bruises all over his body - many of them looked alarmingly similar to fingernail tracks.

Horo shook himself, trying to bring himself out of the haze that the alcohol had left him in. He needed to think straight. "Listen, you need my help. What's your name?"

The young man bent over even further, his nose almost touching the cold dirt floor. He was shaking violently. "M-My name? My name is... Ren."

"Okay, Ren. I'm Horo. I'm here to help you. We're going to get you to a hospital or something, you can't carry on like this."

"N-No. I'm not going anywhere. I-I'm staying here."

"What do you mean? You're obviously not well. Don't worry, I won't hurt you, just let me..." Horo reached out gently to take one of Ren's hands in his.

Ren snatched his hand away as though Horo's touch were pure fire. His tears came faster. "I said don't touch me! Please, just leave me b-be..."

Horo withdrew his hand, his mind working over-time. "Can you stand?"

Ren's body twitched as though he was trying to get up, but he stayed exactly where he was, crouched in agony on the floor. He shook his head in response, sweat dripping from his forehead and mingling with his tears. Horo looked on with concern.

"Okay, I'm really not taking no for an answer. You're coming with me." Horo said, with stern conviction.

"No! I'm fine, I'll be fine..." Ren's breathing became more laboured, and Horo reached out once more to take hold of his arm. This time, Ren didn't react. Horo watched Ren's chest heaving, and his eyelids drooping. Horo just managed to catch him as he passed out cold.

Without a second thought or even a moment to consider, Horo got to his feet, the broken stranger still in his arms. Though he had tensed his muscles to contain the weight of the body, he soon found it was unnecessary. Ren's form was so slight, so frail, he barely weighed more than a large house cat. As Horo stood there, alone in this foreboding sanctuary, he gazed upon the still face of the young man in his arms. Even in this unexpected slumber, he still didn't seem to be at ease.

Something was very wrong with this stranger, that would make him so very weary and cause the injuries that lay so obviously on his skin. At the moment, Horo couldn't bear to comprehend what his troubles could be. All he knew was his desire to help. And so, though his head was pounding and his heart sang out with worry, Horo grasped Ren close and began the long walk back into the city.

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**A/N:** Okay, here's a pledge: one chapter every week. I'll do my utmost to stick to that promise! I'll let you know if I'll be any later ;)  
Let me know: what do you think might be going on with Ren? I want to hear your take on things! And finally, just for reference, the hymn I used in this chapter was A.M. Toplady's _'Rock of Ages'_.


	2. II

Sipping the cool water from the tall glass in his hands certainly helped to clear his head. The chill of the water made his back teeth ache and numbed his hands as he held on to it. He looked up at Eliza, who was still watching him from across the room. She smiled softly, and turned her head back to the paperwork on the desk. He knew that she worried about him. She had to go out of her way many a time for him as a result of his drinking. Sometimes he managed to injure himself. Other times, he suffered severe dehydration from the sheer amount of alcohol and the vomiting that followed. But no matter how irresponsible his actions were, Eliza and Faust never closed their doors on him.

Even now, though the clinic had been closed for hours, they didn't turn him away. When Horo arrived on the doorstep, exhausted and head spinning with Ren in his arms, Eliza had helped them inside, her usual concerned expression on her face. It wasn't long before Faust had appeared, and whisked Ren away into the emergency room, while Eliza was left to stay withthe rather bleary-eyedHoro in the waiting room. It was here they now sat; Eliza pretending to busy herself with documents, and Horo slumped in a plastic chair, sipping slowly at the water with the high hope of alleviating the queasy feeling that was bothering him so. He pressed his fingers to his temple, rubbing circles at the skin in an attempt to clear the ache that was growing there.

As usual, Eliza didn't miss a trick. "Can I get you some painkillers?"

"It's fine, really." Horo insisted, closing his eyes. He heard the sound of Eliza putting her pen down on the desk.

"You know how bad this is for you, don't you, Horo? Why do you keep doing it to yourself?" Though her message was disapproving, there was not even a hint of anger in Eliza's voice - all that came across was sheer worry.

Still, Horo sighed to himself. Every time he came here, he had the same conversation with her. But still things never changed. Faust had gotten to the point where he just accepted it as a flaw of Horo's character, a part of him that would never go away. At first, Horo had been offered all the help under the sun. But each time, he flat out refused, until the point where Faust just stopped offering. But neither Faust nor his wife ever stopped caring for Horo. It was almost as if – having never reared any children of their own – they saw Horo as their troublesome teenage son. They were always the figures in his life that would not shirk away from scolding him; and also the only people who would help to clean his wounds, whether emotional or physical, after a stumble. It was an unspoken relationship, but Horo appreciated it deeply. There was nowhere else he'd rather go for help.

"Don't worry about me. I did this to myself, I can deal with the consequences. You should be worrying about Ren." Horo said, opening his eyes and casting them subconsciously to the door of the emergency room.

"What happened to that poor boy?"

"I honestly don't know." Horo slouched lower in the chair, tipping his head back so that it rested on the wall behind him. "I found him that way, I had to help him."

"I'm glad you brought him to us," Eliza said.

"Who else would I turn to?" Horo said, truthfully. Johann Faust and his wife were incredibly experienced practitioners of medicine. They had opened their small clinic in the middle of the city almost twenty years ago, and though their patients were mostly elderly, their medical knowledge was second to none. Horo would have trusted no one else with the life of that mysterious young man. "Say, how long have they been in there now?"

"About half an hour. I'll check on them." Eliza stood up and walked around the desk. Her heels tapped loudly at the tiled floor as she headed for the emergency room door.

Horo breathed out deeply as he sank into the silence. He was feeling considerably better. He just hoped the same could be said for Ren. He thought for a moment over that matted violet hair and those piercing golden eyes. He thought again of that peculiar old building and that haunting song. None of it made sense. He wondered if it was right to push Ren for answers, considering the state that he was in.

When the door opened again, both Faust and Eliza emerged. Faust came and took a seat beside Horo, and Eliza moved to perch on the desk.

"The good news is, he'll be fine." Faust said, simply. "The bad news is, he's suffered a lot of injuries, through whatever means. His recovery might be a slow one. As you've no doubt already realised, he has sustained many external wounds – bruises, grazes, cuts and the like. However, there are many internal injuries too, such as severe bruising to the ribs and evidence of fractures in the limbs that have recently healed. But they have by no means been treated properly. I can expect they will still be a weak point in his body, due to lack of proper care. There is also some damage obviously bought on by his circumstance, whatever that may be – such as shrinking of the stomach."

Horo felt his own stomach lurch violently. His queasiness made this terrible list so much harder to listen to.

"Then, there is some damage-"

"Wait, there's more?" Horo interrupted, looking up at Faust with alarm in his eyes.

"Unfortunately, yes... things are rather serious, I'm afraid." Faust sighed, the dark circles around his eyes looking blacker by the minute.

Horo clutched his hand around his stomach and took a cautious sip of water. "I don't think I want to hear any more."

"But Horo, there is something..."

"Please, Faust. I can't deal with it right now." Horo pleaded.

Faust considered him for a moment, eyes passing over his trembling body. "Okay. For now." He nodded. The doctor got to his feet, standing to his full tremendous height. "I'm afraid we can't offer your friend a bed, as you know."

"Don't worry. You've been a great help already, I really appreciate it." Horo forced a grateful smile. He was tired enough without having to spout pleasantries, but his conscience warned him against being impolite. Where would he be without them, after all?

"Any time, Horo." Eliza said, gently. "Though considering the circumstances, we should be able to offer you transport back at least."

"And I want you to bring him back here within the next couple of days. I want to keep a close eye on him." Faust instructed.

"Sure thing." Horo agreed, "Can I go see him?"

Faust nodded, and Horo got to his feet. The floor shook beneath him for a moment, threatening to knock him off balance, but he soon steadied himself. He walked towards the emergency room door without a word. With a brief glance back at Faust and Eliza, he pushed it open.

Inside, Ren lay motionless on a stretcher, his violet hair strewn across the pillow beneath his head. The tools of Faust's trade lay neatly positioned on shelves and trolleys around the room. There were machines that monitored heart rate, and other machines that Horo didn't even recognise. Thankfully, none of them were attached to Ren. He lay in peace, as though sleeping beneath a plain white sheet.

As the door banged shut behind him, Ren's eyes shot open, as wide as saucers. His hands gripped at the sheets beneath him desperately, as though scouting for something solid. His chest heaved with panicky breaths and his pupils searched wildly around the white-washed room.

Horo took a few brisk steps to Ren's bedside. "Hey, it's alright! I'm here."

Ren turned his head sharply to look at him, sheer distress in his eyes. "Where am I?" He demanded, tone disdainful.

"It's okay, you're safe." Horo insisted, gently. "I brought you to get some help. That's where you are."

"No... no! I need to go back! Take me back!" The tears welled up in Ren's eyes, and his breathing became more erratic still. Horo watched beads of sweat roll down Ren's face.

"You'll be able to go back! Soon!" Horo said. The lie came easy in his desperation to calm Ren down. He didn't know how true his statement was. At the moment, it felt like a lie no matter which way it was considered. He didn't know what Ren was doing in that old building, but whatever was going on, he wasn't sending him back there.

"I... I can?" Horo watched Ren's fingers loosen on the sheets. The hope in his voice was almost heart-wrenching.

"Yes, soon." Horo nodded. "Just wait a little while, and trust me, okay?"

Ren's eyes surveyed him silently. Horo felt the guilt sink over him as Ren nodded warily. But what else could he do? If Ren got himself any more worked up, considering his injuries, he could really have done himself some harm. Ren stared at him expectantly, as though waiting for some immediate instruction that would get him home there and then – as though he would do anything at all to return. Horo fidgeted uneasily under his unwaveringgaze.

A full minute passed before Faust entered the room, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He walked straight over to Ren's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Ren flinched, as though Faust were striking him rather than talking to him. He said nothing.

"I think he's a little shaken," Horo answered for him. "But he seems to be fine. The sooner he gets to bed, the better."

Faust looked curiously at Ren, who stared straight back at him, unfazed. Faust turned away. "Shall I help you bring him to the car?"

Horo watched a small glint of panic pass through Ren's eyes. "No! I mean, no, it's okay. I'll bring him. Can you just wait in the car for us, please?"

Faust looked at him with eyebrows knitted, then walked out of the room with a simple nod of assent.

"Did that man... touch me?" Ren's voice wavered with concern.

Horo turned back to look at him, and saw the tears welling again. He remembered the distress Ren had been in last time he had tried to make contact with him. "No, he hasn't." Horo lied again, shaking his head softly.

Ren looked up at him again with that worried stare. It remained there a moment as Ren surveyed him once more. He watched the look sink into trust as Ren nodded again.

"Now, you're going to have to come with me." Horo said, as gently as he could.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place. It's safe there too. Faust, the doctor, is going to take us there in his car." Horo explained. He found himself subconsciously talking to Ren as though he were a child, the reason for which he was unaware. Judging by his appearance, he couldn't be that far from Horo's own age. But that innocence and that blind trust made him seem more like a child than anyone Horo had ever met. And thinking like that made it so much easier to lie to him.

"I know you don't like people to touch you, and that's fine. It just means that you're going to have to walk to the car yourself. Do you think you can do that?"

Ren thought for a moment, then nodded. Without another word, he shuffled carefully to the end of the bed. Horo stood nearby, in case he needed to catch hold of him. Ren slid gently off the bed, and his feet touched the ground delicately.

"Everything okay?" Horo asked.

Ren nodded again, a look of determination in his eyes. He took a few unsure steps towards the door. Horo shadowed him, just in case. Ren stopped at the door and looked at Horo expectantly. Horo stood, dumbstruck for a moment, until he realised that Ren wanted to open it for him. He did so. Ren remained where he stood. Horo watched him, trying to work out what he was waiting for.

"Oh, you want me to lead the way?" Horo said, and walked ahead, through the doorway. He looked back to watch Ren follow. He breathed deeply. Ren seemed to be okay. He was better than at first, at least. He walked at his normal pace out into the waiting room. Eliza waited by the exit.

She smiled as they approached. "Johann is waiting in the car for you."

"Thanks Eliza, for everything." Horo said, returning the smile.

"I hope you feel better," she nodded towards Ren. "We'll see you in a few days."

Ren gave a blank expression in response. Horo grinned apologetically. "Good night."

"Take care."

Horo stepped out into the street, with Ren closely in tow. The night was well into its stretch, the darkness penetrated only by the countless street lamps lining the city street. Despite the hour, cars still careered down the road, their engines intrusive to the silence. People walked by, laughing and talking, no doubt on their way home after a long night. A car sat in front of them, its engine impatiently running. Horo opened one of the rear doors, and signalled for Ren to get inside. Ren was staring out into the night, his pupils dancing wildly, trying to take in the sights around him. He recoiled a little at the sound of a car horn, and stared intently after a couple that walked by, holding on to each other. He craned his neck to look up into the night sky and see the full height of the skyscrapers that towered above them.

"Ren?" Horo called after him, trying to get his attention.

Ren looked back at him suddenly, as though shocked by the sound of his voice.

Horo smiled gently, and gestured again to tell him to get inside. "Come on."

Ren's eyes fell now to the car in front of him. Horo watched the panic set in as Ren realised what he was telling him to do. He smiled understandingly. "It's okay, I'm coming with you. You're safe."

Ren gave that same trusting, determined nod, and without question took the few uncertain steps to the car door. He crawled on his hands and knees on to the seat, then shuffled around so that he could sit down.

"Fasten your seatbelt, okay?" Horo said, smiling to him one last time and closing the door. He climbed into the passenger seat, where Faust waited solemnly behind the wheel.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." Horo turned around to look back at Ren. "Ren, your seatbelt." he reminded him.

Ren stared blankly in response.

"You need to fasten it."

Again, Ren did not stir.

Horo frowned to himself as he took hold of his own seatbelt and pulled it around him. "Like this?" He clicked it into place, and looked to Ren for a response. Faust watched with concern through the rear-view mirror.

Ren looked around himself, first right, then left. Spotting the belt, he took hold of it and pulled on it unsurely. He stared at Horo, waiting for acknowledgement.

"Um, that's right." Horo said. As Ren pulled the belt across himself and looked with confusion at the clasp, Horo exchanged a concerned glance with Faust. Horo sighed and, undoing his own belt, reached over to help him. That done, he settled back into his seat. "Sorry, we're ready now." He gave Faust an apologetic smile.

Faust put the car into gear and pulled out into the road. Horo took a glance in the rear-view mirror. Ren's expression was one of absolute terror.

"Next time I see you..." Faust spoke in a low tone, so only Horo may hear. "You better have a good explanation as to where you found this young man."

Horo's face stung, feeling like a child that had just been scolded. He said nothing, and Faust pressed the issue no more.

Horo leant his head against the cold glass of the car window, already deep in thought. He closed his eyes against the intrusive glare of the street lamps whizzing by outside. He clasped his hands together in his lap, feeling the last remains of the alcohol in his system fighting weakly to affect him. It was barely eleven o'clock, but Horo already wished this night would end. The short journey to his home was an opportunity to absorb his thoughts in himself, to ignore the fact that Ren was sitting in the back seat seemingly terrified of something yet unbeknown to him, and Faust was sitting next to him somewhat suspicious of him. His mind was too full of thoughts – the furious buzzing of worries that he drank copiously to silence, now topped with this new wonder and concern about Ren.

He had never wished more that he could simply stop thinking. He felt his mind slipping in and out of the troubled haze that often heralded his sleep. It was a welcome sensation, but he knew it could not last much longer. After a few moments, he risked an unwilling peek from beneath his eyelids, to see Faust pulling into the street he recognised as home. He groaned quietly as the car came to a halt outside a rather miserable-looking tower block. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he looked up at 'home sweet home'_._ The building was nothing special – one of those concrete monstrosities put up for speed rather than quality. There must have been hundreds of people inhabiting the block, and none of them living in particularly favourable conditions. But Horo could do little better; yet on the other hand, he was sure he could do a lot worse. With the heaviness that the sight of this building brought in his heart, he turned to look at Ren with a weak smile on his face. "We're here."

Ren was biting his lip, his hands clasped tightly on the seat's edge. His eyes looked to Horo in desperation.

"Ren, what's wrong with you?" Horo asked, noticing how completely terrified he looked.

"C-Can I... get out now?" Ren questioned, his voice quiet and shaky.

"Yeah, you can. Let me help you." Horo undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. He opened the rear door to find Ren struggling furiously with his own belt. "Hey, wait! Calm down, let me help you."

Ren pushed himself right back in his seat as Horo reached across him, desperately trying to avoid any form of contact. As soon as the belt came loose and Horo stepped back, Ren scrambled desperately out of the car. His feet touched the ground and a look of relief passed over his face. Horo gave him a reassuring smile, then turned to look through the car's open window, where Faust waited to speak to him.

"Will you be okay for now?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. Thanks a lot, Faust. I mean it."

"Don't forget, I want to see him in a couple of days, okay?" Faust said, firmly.

"Right, I'll bring him by."

"If you need anything else, call me. Good night, Horokeu."

"Night, Faust."

The window rolled up slowly as Faust gave Horo one last fatherly look. The car pulled carefully out into the night. And with that, he was gone.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Horo said, watching Ren's golden eyes stare after the car right until it vanished from sight. He took the lead, and sure enough, Ren followed obediently.

Together, they headed towards the building's entrance - one heart weary; the other, unfathomable.

* * *

**A/N: **Faust and Eliza are quite fun to write for. They'll no doubt be making an appearance later in the story too, along with various other Shaman King characters. Any more ideas on what Ren's deal is?


	3. III

**A/N:** I finally got a job! I'm just working in a local game/computer/DVDs etc store, but it's work, right? It's kinda enjoyable, even if the pay's poor :P  
Chapter 3, go go go!

* * *

Chapter III

The smell of vomit and urine hit him the moment he stepped through the door. Horo coughed in disgust. The same stomach-churning stench was always present here, but tonight, it seemed a lot stronger an odour than usual. He watched Ren's petite nose wrinkle as he quietly followed, but he demonstrated no other response. Horo looked towards the elevator doors that would take him with considerable ease to his apartment floor. He remembered the time, and thought better of it.

"We'll take the stairs," Horo explained to Ren. "I don't trust the elevator at night."

Horo took a right, and passed through another beaten door. The deep red paint splashed upon it not too long ago – a half-hearted attempt to smarten the building up - was chipping away mercilessly. It left a dirty undercoat of sewerage-brown glaring unashamedly underneath. Horo put his foot on the first step, beginning the gruelling six floor trek to his level. The carpet beneath his feet was without a doubt the main suspect of the terrible stench that plagued the air. The once-sophisticated shade of burgundy was now more the colour of dried blood, riddled with stains and pools that were unmistakeably of human origin. Each step brought a cloud of foul-smelling dust flying up beneath his feet, making a sharp taste hit the back of his throat. As he reached the top of the first staircase, he looked back to check on Ren. Despite his injuries, he didn't seem fazed by the climb. He walked along slowly, his feet as heavy as feathers on the exhausted old staircase. His eyes darted about him as they had done all night, absorbing his surroundings.

Satisfied, Horo continued on, taking care not to touch the yellow-stained wallpaper on his way around the corner. His feet trudged thoughtlessly on and on, each heavy step making his body shudder abruptly. He paused only at the top of each staircase to briefly check on Ren's progress. It passed vaguely through his mind that Faust must have given Ren quite a number of painkillers to prevent him from feeling the pain of those extensive injuries. He half-wondered if Ren would have an objection to that too, if he knew_. _At the top of the third flight, his knees started to quiver with exhaustion. By the time the sixth floor came into view, he felt just about ready to collapse. He'd been out since eight o'clock this morning – first, to work, then out for 'just one' drink as usual, and then... all this. He wanted it desperately to end. Taking the door that lead on to floor six, he became intensely aware of how dry his mouth felt. Holding the door open for Ren to pass through, he took the few remaining footsteps to his front door.

He turned and smiled wearily to Ren. "This is it."

Digging deep into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the keys to apartment 6A. He was back - fighting between his exhaustion and his disappointment , he pondered whether or not he was happy to have arrived. With a turn of the key, the door creaked open, squeaking horribly on its old hinges. Horo stepped back to allow Ren inside, and he obliged with a nervous glance. Horo's heart grew heavy as he stepped inside, closing the door begrudgingly behind himself. The front door brought him straight into the living room. There was not much there to speak of; a few pieces of mismatched furniture and a swift coat of industrial paint. The carpet was similar to that of the communal hallway – the only difference being that it was considerably cleaner. A rather aged TV set sat in the corner of the room, large and ungraceful. It balanced on top of a small coffee table Horo had salvaged from someone's waste, the corners of the machine overlapping every side of it. The large sofa was a stale blue hue – probably the newest-looking object in Horo's possession. This sat awkwardly beside a red gingham-covered armchair – an item Horo despised, but was bound to keeping purely for utility. In the rather meagre-looking window hung some dreary curtains – a deep blue affair that barely served their purpose and let chinks of light in from all sides of the window. Aside from a plain-looking coffee table arranged neatly between the seats, there was little else inhabiting the room at all.

"Pirika?" Horo called out, the sound vaguely echoing from the bareness of the walls. No reply followed.

"...Pirika?" Ren looked up at Horo with questioning eyes.

"My sister." Horo answered simply, setting his keys down on the coffee table and walking over to a door leading directly off the living room. He peeped inside half-heartedly. There was little point – he knew very well that she was absent.

"...Where is she?"

"Who knows." Horo shrugged, heading now for the doorway that led to his small kitchen. Moving more by instinct than conscious thought, he flicked on the light switch and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He took it to the sink, where he filled it. Gazing unseeingly at the cityscape through his kitchen window, he downed the glass in one. The city lights sure were bright at night... He turned, glass in hand, to find Ren staring at him from the doorway. He lifted the glass indicatively. "Want a drink?"

Ren shook his head vigorously, violet hair falling limply into his golden eyes.

"Do you want to take a shower or anything?"

Ren shook his head again, folding his arms defensively around himself.

Setting the glass down in the sink, he leant gently against the worktop. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I think I'm ready to call it a day. It's probably best if you get some rest too, you know."

Ren shook his head once more, this time, with increased vigour.

"Hm? Is something up?"

"I need to do something... before I sleep."

"What is it?"

"There's a ritual I must perform," Ren said, matter-of-factly.

"A _ritual_?" Horo frowned with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"If it's no trouble to you... I just need a few simple tools for the task."

"I can try my best, I suppose..." Horo said. Trying to think about what Ren meant by 'ritual' just made his head spin, even more than it had done all night. Against his better judgement, he knew the only way to find out was to let Ren go through with it. "What is it you need?"

"Just a candle... and something to light it with."

"That should be easy. Pirika is really into that kind of stuff." Horo said. The 'tools' sounded harmless enough. And after all, wasn't the best way to settle Ren in to let him do what he knew as routine? "Wait there, I'll be right back." Walking carefully by Ren, Horo headed again for Pirika's bedroom door.

The transparency of Pirika's thin curtains meant he didn't need a light to see inside. The glow of the street lamps outside threw enough light inside the room for him to see with ease. Pirika's messy bed lay untouched, as it had done for three consecutive nights. Horo noticed a pile of clothes on top of the bedsheets – new, if he wasn't mistaken. She must have at least dropped in while he was at work. He tried to ignore his growing concerns for his younger sister's well-being, and turned instead to the task at hand. The haphazard shelf attached to the wall beside her bed held many trinkets and treasures. Most of it silly little things from their childhood. Horo noticed the wooden bead bracelet he had carved for her as a child. His fingers lingered over it lovingly for a moment, before he reached out and took hold of the large white candle near the right edge of the shelf. Next to it, a box of matches lay, conveniently so. He picked these up too, and fighting the urge to take one more glance at Pirika's empty bed, he returned to join Ren.

"This okay?" He asked, holding up the candle.

Ren nodded. Without a word, he fell to his knees where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking at Horo expectantly. Horo's eyes cast over Ren's hands, pulling tightly at the shift he wore to ensure that it covered him in the position he sat in. It barely did. Looking awkwardly back to the candle in his hand, he paused for a moment. "Um, Ren?"

Ren continued staring at him, which he supposed meant he could continue. "Can I watch your, um... ritual?" He bit hard on his tongue, realising how intrusive his question had seemed. He was sure a 'ritual' was a private affair, whatever it entailed. But his thirst for knowledge about Ren's whereabouts took control and made him speak without his usual consideration. No matter how he looked at it, this was the perfect opportunity to try to understand his charge. He forced himself to look to Ren for an answer.

He was greeted with a look of vague confusion and a slow nod. Ren's face frowned delicately as he said, "I'm used to having an audience."

"Oh... huh," was all Horo could manage, fighting between his sense of relief and utter bewilderment. "Um... I suppose you want this then?" Horo said, indicating again to the candle. He took the few steps necessary to reach Ren, and placed the candle down on the floor in front of him. "Is this alright?"

Ren nodded, his gaze intent on the candle.

"Should I light it for you?" Horo asked carefully, musing to himself that Ren's tiny fingers didn't even look capable of striking a match.

"Yes..." Ren replied, simply. His eyes didn't move an inch.

Horo did as asked, sliding open the box of matches and taking one from the half-empty packet. Closing it once more, he placed the head of the match against the lighting strip on the side of the box. He stopped for a second, taking another curious look at that focused stare on Ren's face, those golden eyes burning with concentration... With a flick of the wrist, he struck the match.

The head burst into flame, flickering reds and yellows. Silently, Horo set the match to the candle's wick. It caught quickly – soon, it too was decorated with a tiny dancing flame, beautifully dangerous. With still no response from Ren, Horo shuffled back across the floor to give him some room. Shaking the match in his hands to put it out, he settled back to watch, heart beginning to race. An air of reverence seemed to fall about the room that made even Horo feel nervous. Ren's demeanour had completely changed. He was focused, incredibly so, eyes not shifting even slightly away from the candle, as though he were keeping it alight through sheer force of will. Then, without warning, an incredible sound pierced the air.

Horo almost jumped out of his skin, the sound sudden in the tense silence. It was forceful, it demanded to be heard, but at the same time, it was wonderful. It took a moment for Horo to realise, in his haze of the day, that the sound was one he had heard once before: Ren was _singing._

"_Lord, teach us how to pray aright, with reverence and with fear; though dust and ashes in thy sight, we may, we must, draw near..."_

Just as before, the song was unmistakeably a hymn. Yet Ren's voice was so pleasing to the ears, no church choir could ever hope to best it. Horo watched Ren's pale lips moving with the words, producing a sound they barely seemed capable of. His whole body seemed somehow strengthened by the song, his frail limbs seemingly fortified beyond belief. Horo watched on, captivated, as Ren clasped his hands together in his lap and turned his face skyward. The singing got louder, more confident, as Ren lost himself in the melody.

"_God of all grace, we bring to thee, a broken, contrite heart; give what thine eye delights to see, truth in the inward part..."_

The words seemed to make Ren glow with passion, pools of tears welling in those deep eyes. Horo was taken aback by the sheer devotion in Ren's voice – something he couldn't imagine coming from any human, much less one so timid and weak. Despite everything, Ren's voice did not falter. It stayed as pitch-perfect and as beautiful as before. Horo watched the flame from the candle dance as though in time, throwing shimmering reflections on to the walls of the room, despite the artificial light. The entire sight was breathtaking.

Slowly and deliberately, Ren's hands began to move. Horo watched them intently, feeling his intrigue grow by the second. Ren unknotted his hands from their place in his lap, and held out now his right index finger. He sang on.

"_Faith in the only sacrifice that can for sin atone..."_

Ren closed his eyes, his face still turned upwards, as he moved this single finger towards the candle. He held it but a centimetre from the flame, as Horo gazed on in amazement. Then slowly, subtly, Ren's finger lowered, down towards the heart of the flame.

"_To cast out hopes, to fix our eyes, on Ch-Christ, on Christ alone..."_

The falter in Ren's voice was all to obvious to Horo as he realised what Ren was doing. He kept his finger still for another five seconds. Another five. The smell of charring flesh caught Horo's attention, as he watched Ren's face wrinkle up in agony.

"Ren..." Horo murmured, eyes wide with astonishment.

Ren was oblivious, as focused as he was. A few seconds later, and he moved another finger to the candle's flame. The fire licked around it as he lowered it into the heat's centre.

"_Patience to watch, and wait, and weep, though m-mercy long-"_

"That's enough!" Horo cried out, springing towards Ren before he even realised that he had done so. Subconsciously, he had caught hold of Ren's arm to pull it away from the flame. Ren stared at him now with bewilderment.

It took a second for the shock to set in before Ren screamed out, "I told you not to touch me!" He snatched away his arm, terror in his words, and shuffled away from Horo.

"What were you doing? You really could have hurt yourself!" Horo exclaimed, completely shaken by the whole event. He took a look at the offending candle and put it out without a second thought. He looked back to Ren for an answer.

"I was... I was doing as I was supposed to do..."

"Let me see your hand," Horo instructed.

Ren shook his head rapidly, clutching his arm close to his chest.

"I won't touch you. Just let me see." Horo said, a little gentler this time.

Ren considered a moment. Then, with a worried expression on his face, he held out his right hand.

Horo's eyes settled straight on the two fingers that he had just seen Ren deliberately burn. They were hard to miss – entirely bright red from the tips to half-way down. Horo could only imagine how painful they must have been. On closer inspection, Horo noticed something else, beneath the initial redness. Small white blotches that he soon identified as blisters plagued the skin around Ren's fingers – blisters that looked alarmingly similar to his current burns. Casting his eyes over the rest of Ren's hand, he discovered something more shocking still. Not only was the rest of his hand covered in tiny, painful-looking blisters, but every fingertip was completely smooth, with no fingerprints to speak of. They had gone. Burnt off, Horo could only assume, through repeated occurrences of this 'ritual'.

"Do you... do this a lot?" Horo asked, face screwed up partially in horror, partially in disgust.

"Every night," was Ren's reply.

"But why?" Horo shook his head in confusion, eyes still focused unwillingly on Ren's injuries.

"Because it's my duty," Ren said, simply. He withdrew his hand, cradling it again to his chest.

Horo sighed to himself, feeling the sickness rise back into his stomach again. "I'm not gonna try and understand right now. I think what we need to do is clean up those wounds. Come on." Horo got to his feet, waiting for Ren to follow. He did so without objection. Horo led him into the kitchen, where he turned on the tap. "Here, hold your fingers under there for a while."

"Why?"

"Because it will cool your skin down and stop the burn worsening," Horo explained. "Please, just do it."

Ren walked over to the sink, placing his fingers under the stream of cold water. Horo watched Ren's eyes gaze out of the window, his pupils flying about, surveying the view. He seemed rather indifferent to the pain and discomfort he was obviously feeling. Horo didn't dare to wonder why. He leant back against the worktop, still watching Ren. No matter how he stared, and he thought, Horo could not seem to unravel the many layers that seemed to exist within this young man. Part of him wondered if he even _wanted _to know Ren's secrets, his origins... but that intrigue was hard to fight off.

His train of thoughts was brought to a swift halt as he was interrupted by the need to yawn. He gave into it, stretching his arms out above his head. "I think we're definitely ready to hit the hay now."

Ren continued to stare out of the window, solemnly.

Horo supposed he was concerned about the interruption of his 'duties'. But there was no way Horo was going to let him continue to harm himself. Judging by what Faust had said, he was already sufficiently ill. Horo reassured himself - he must be cruel to be kind. "I can let you borrow a change of clothes, if you need them."

"I can't. Am I done now?" Ren asked, impatiently.

"You can't? No way, you can't stay in that old thing forever, it barely fits you!" Horo said, eyeing the dirty-looking shift. He supposed it must once have been white. It was now a rather sorry shade of grey.

"I _can't,_" Ren said, more sternly this time. "Can I stop doing this now?"

Horo sighed again, turning the tap off and holding out a cloth for Ren to dry his hands on.

Ren took it and used it carefully. He handed it back to Horo without a word.

"Any better?" Horo asked, nodding towards Ren's hands.

"A little," Ren said, dismissively. He turned away slightly, an obvious sign that he had very little to say.

Horo withstood the silence before he spoke up. He headed for the door. "Come on then, let's get some rest." Leading Ren out of the kitchen, he walked now to another door leading off the living room. Opening it, he stepped into his own bedroom. He switched on the light and Ren followed him inside.

The room – much like the rest of the apartment – was minimalist in decoration, and small in size and proportion. Inside, only three pieces of furniture existed: the bed, a rather rickety-looking wardrobe, and a very old-fashioned chest of drawers. They contained all of Horo's worldly possessions – which admittedly, were few. Horo turned to Ren and smiled apologetically. "You can sleep here tonight. I'll take the sofa."

"Where?" Ren asked, looking around the room blankly.

"There, of course," Horo said, pointing out the bed in the corner of the room.

"Oh..." Ren looked at it as though confused by its existence.

"Are you sure you don't want a change of clothes to sleep in?" Horo asked again.

"I can't." Ren's reply was the same.

"Okay... will you be alright?"

Ren nodded.

"Well... sleep tight," Horo said, knowing to not even bother waiting for a response. He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. He remained outside for just a second to listen. He didn't hear Ren move at all. He sighed, shaking his head. He felt awkward, completely puzzled by how to act around Ren and how to respond to him. Every thing Horo said was met with a vacant look, or an uncooperative nod. He truly felt as though he was treading on eggshells around this stranger, not knowing what was next going to invoke a seemingly illogical reaction. In turn, he had a feeling Ren wouldn't be going to bed left to his own devices like that, but he was again starting to reach that point of not caring. The moment he was alone, his exhaustion crept up on him. His body grew heavy, and his limbs felt flaccid. His mind – having overworked that night through confusion and alcohol – merely sounded now like white noise.

Absent-mindedly picking up the candle that still sat squarely in the middle of the floor and placing it on the coffee table, he fell back heavily on to the sofa. He lay his head against a cushion, and within a few moments, he was sound asleep.

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**A/N: **Coming next chapter, another familiar face...  
Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as always!  
The hymn used in this chapter was written by James Montgomery.


	4. IV

**A/N:** Wow, I never thought I'd be so happy to be writing again. It's so great to hear from all of you guys that I haven't spoken to in so long! Thanks for your feedback so far, everyone.  
This chapter might seem a little odd, but it's necessary. I hope you enjoy! :)

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Chapter IV

A small collection of people filled the mismatched pews gathered neatly in the vast space inside that unlikely building hidden within the skeletal remains of the old industrial estate. There was hushed talking, and an air of expectancy rattled around them. All of the people here were garbed in black and all carried an austere expression one usually only affected at a funeral, making the atmosphere more ominous still. Each of them sat, hands folded neatly in their laps, eyes set on the altar that stood before them. The only person left standing was a young man with emerald hair and a child-like face that often betrayed his true age. He, more than anyone, was finding it hard to maintain the stoic demeanour expected of him. His green eyes shone wide with excitement as he lit the few candles they were allowed to have burning in the room. Too much light and it would be visible even from the second-storey windows of the building, he had been told.

Today was an important day for him. Not only had he recently been entrusted with the duty of lighting candles when everyone arrived for evening gatherings, but today, he had been asked to do a _reading_. Very few people actually took part in the giving of the services. Only the most dedicated of members were chosen for that duty, he had heard. Various people had told him of the promise he showed, and that - added to the fact that he had been asked to perform this task – made him all the more sure of the fact that the corypheus had taken somewhat of a shine to him. So, before he left the house that evening, he had made an extra effort to iron his shirt to perfection and press his trousers extra carefully. Looking down at himself now, he almost smiled. He caught himself short, and remembered his position. The corypheus wasn't here yet, but as he was the only one standing, he was in everyone else's line of sight. Today, more than ever, they would be extra critical of him. He cast his eyes downward to focus on the candle he was lighting – the third out of the six that surrounded the seating area. Two more stood at the altar, but only one person was allowed to touch those. That done, he crossed the room past the back of the pews so as to light the remaining candles on the other side. He reached the first, and set about his duty.

He took a moment to glance up and take a look at the people assembled, waiting to start. He hadn't been here very long, perhaps a few weeks now – but he knew almost everybody's names. Some of them had been attending for years. Some, months. But he was by far the newest addition to the group. And to think, he was already surpassing them all! His heart leapt at the thought, and his foot snagged on the candle stand as he tried to walk away. It span dangerously on its thin cast iron legs, and he watched with horror as it clattered to the ground. Everyone turned to look with a start, and the room fell silent. He scrambled to the floor – partly to rescue the fallen candle, but also to hide his burning face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall figure of the man known as Marco rise up from the front-most pew. His glasses gleamed disapprovingly in the low candlelight.

"Lyserg," Marco's voice rang out in the quiet. It wasn't raised, but it was stern. Incredibly so. "Please, be more careful when performing your duties."

"S-Sorry..." Lyserg stuttered, taking the candle in his hands. Luckily, the dirt floor of the building had extinguished the flame before any further damage could be caused. He got to his feet, trembling with embarrassment as he picked up the stand. Marco watched him carefully for a few more seconds, then returned to his seat. Gradually, everybody else turned away. Lyserg continued on to the next candle, head hung low in shame. His cheeks felt hotter than the flame he was carrying. How predictable, for him to falter in front of the second-most important person in the group. He cursed himself silently, wondering exactly how much he had dented his reputation.

Just as he left the fifth candle, the sound of the large metal door opening echoed around the room. Right on cue, everyone dropped to their knees between the pews. The sight of all seventeen people falling simultaneously was at first a strange sight to behold. But Lyserg had seen this far too many times to be alarmed. What _did_ alarm him was the fact that he was not in position alongside them as he ought to be, due to his earlier mishap. With a fresh panic setting over him, he lit the sixth and final candle and dashed back to his place. With a thud, he fell to his knees, eyes closed tight and hands clasped together against his chest, just like everyone else. For a moment, he realised that he had just scuffed the knees of his neatly-pressed trousers. He hastily pushed the thought away, heart racing, as footsteps sounded across the room. There was complete silence, but for the echo of shoes on the dirt that covered the floor. They continued on, confidently, striding with an air of importance between the two rows of pews. The footsteps passed Lyserg as he felt the rush of air that meant the corypheus had just walked right by him. He squeezed his eyes closed tighter still, feeling his eyelids giving in to the temptation to peek. He sensed the presence climb upon the altar, accompanied by the sound of shoes on wood. A moment of tense silence passed, and the orange light filtering through his eyelids grew brighter as the two altar candles were lit.

He felt his heart pounding throughout his entire body as the excitement grew greater still. This part was always the hardest. The inexplicable urge to look upon the man they called leader was hard to fight away. Never before had Lyserg met a man he so thoroughly admired. The want to please and serve him was the strongest thing Lyserg had ever felt. This was why the excitement for today had consumed him, had been occupying him for days. To become one of the corypheus' most trusted... he was sure he would want for nothing more after he had achieved that honour.

"My friends." The voice was brimming with confidence, measured yet somehow joyful. "Good evening."

Lyserg knew it could be the voice of one man. Just like everyone else, his eyes opened wide. Only now were they allowed to look upon him – the corypheus, the man he so revered. He clasped his fingers tighter together as he saw the slender figure upon the altar, arms open warmly to them all, addressing them with a vigour that seemed to come quite naturally.

"Thank you for coming here tonight. I'm sorry I join you so late. Now, on with proceedings. Marco." He looked towards the tall blonde man who had earlier scolded Lyserg and nodded in his direction.

Marco, from his prominent position on the front pew, inclined his head both in response and in respect, and got to his feet. His task didn't need to be made any clearer to him, nor to anyone else. With a brisk stride, he left the bubble of candlelight that surrounded the pews in the centre of the room, and headed towards a far corner, concealed in the shadows. Nobody could see through the darkness, but everyone knew what was there – a set of stairs, leading to the basement of the building. This was Marco's destination. The sound of him descending was muffled, but audible. Lyserg looked forward to the day he could be entrusted with such a task.

"Please, be seated," the corypheus instructed his audience, watching in silent regard. At his command, everyone settled themselves back on to the hard wood of the pews, hands settled once more in their laps. Lyserg was no different. He sat up straight and proud, face turned up towards the leader with a serious and focused expression on his face. His heart was still racing. He willed it to slow, lest the pounding of it against his chest distract him from the service. Today was so important...

The corypheus was as at ease as ever, despite so many solemn faces eagerly and silently watching his every move. With a casual air that made Lyserg's heart swell once more with admiration, he took a seat on the very edge of the platform that made up the altar, and beamed softly at his audience, legs swinging gently just above the ground. He addressed them in a warm tone. "I'm sure you're all familiar with what goes on this evening. As usual, there are no changes to that. However, we do have a couple of small additions to tonight's service. First of all, our newest member, Lyserg, will be doing a reading for us."

For a fleeting moment, the corypheus smiled in Lyserg's direction. Lyserg smiled back with pride, forgetting his place for just that instant. His stomach wriggled with nerves as the weight of his upcoming task truly fell upon him.

"And secondly, there is a-"

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps cut the leader's speech short. They clattered up the stairs towards where they all sat at a speed indicative of sheer panic. The corypheus turned around with an unusual expression of alarm as Marco appeared again in the glow of the candlelight. He was panting heavily, eyes wide with shock. He fell to his knees before the corypheus and cried out in a voice wavering with emotion. "Eminence! It's Ren... Ren has gone!"

Almost instantly, a wave of alarmed chatter rippled through the crowd. Lyserg glanced at everyone's faces with sheer disbelief, settling with worry and a hope of comfort upon the face of the corypheus. He felt these hopes shatter horribly as he saw the beads of sweat on his leader's forehead. When he spoke, his voice jarred with an ill-hidden panic uncharacteristic of his usual nature.

"You... you're sure? You've checked everywhere?"

"Yes, everywhere! He's nowhere to be seen!" Marco exclaimed, fists clenched tightly together and eyes quivering with hysteria.

The corypheus was frozen to the spot, mouth agape. He remained like this for a split second before jumping down from the altar and calling out, "We have to find him." There was not only panic, but anger in his words that shook Lyserg to hear. Without another word, the corypheus marched with fury past Marco in a way that screamed disappointment. Not even so much as glancing back to reassure his followers, he disappeared off into the darkness, his audience forgotten. A few of the more senior members leapt to their feet and followed him with blind loyalty. Marco remained on his knees in the dirt, looking thoroughly ashamed. Lyserg wondered why he looked so concerned for his own well-being. Surely the corypheus couldn't put any blame on him for this?

Lyserg sat obediently on his pew, waiting for the leader to return. Twiddling his thumbs together, he looked with sorrowful eyes at the bookmark placed in the tome in front of him. This night was going far from how he had planned.

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**A/N:** Sorry for the distinct lack of Ren and Horo in this chapter, but as I said, it was necessary. I can't wait to hear all of your theories now ;)  
Ooh, and I have a favour to ask. I'm beta-reading a story for the wonderful **KyrieLenna**. She finally managed to put up the first couple of chapters the other day. It's a Ragnarok Online/Megaman crossover, but fortunately, you don't need a knowledge of either franchise to read it. It's called _'10 Metros Abaixo_', and it's a brilliant read. If you go check it out, I'll give you cookies.

(Note: cookies are probably a lie.)


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